I am writing this week’s article suffering with severe jetlag having been awake for over thirty hours. I’ll level with you, I’m tired. Surely there’s no better way than to return home from sunny Orlando in one spectacular crash as England offers it’s greatest of storms? Welcome home indeed, to the most miserable weather, ever.
Was it a good holiday though? It was excellent, thanks for asking. There are plenty of talking points; from the outrageous rides at Universal Studios to the shameful obesity that America proudly boasts, but I thought I’d share just a few of my favourite moments. I’ve returned to England with a whopping great graze slapped right across my forehead. I’d love to tell you, as I did with the American women, that I did it saving a small child as an alligator snapped towards it and I clutched it just at the alligator’s jaws slammed shut, catching me with its razor sharp teeth. Or better still, that whilst performing a skydiving trick through a ring of fire I saw a small child in distress on a train track and so flew by risking my own life, picking him up only to be caught by the passing train. The reality of it is, that I actually did it whilst being completely sober, trying to do a handstand in the swimming pool. Yep, what a retard. I’m a tall lad and clearly didn’t appreciate my length when I plunged into the four foot of water, breast stroking my way to the pool’s floor. Having performed a mighty powerful stroke my arms came to rest by my sides as my head hurtled into the harsh concrete floor scrapping along with some considerable force. It hurt, no doubt about it but I thought it was merely a bump until I surfaced and my friend screamed in horror, “Fuck me Eddie, you’re bleeding!”. Alas, in the rest of my holiday pictures I can be seen to be sporting a convenient hat. I wouldn’t have minded being wounded anywhere but the face (or hair).
My favourite moment though? Well, that would have to be when my mate inadvertently skull fucked a four year old girl. This, before the ‘child right’ types start moaning, was much more harmless that it sounds. Honest. Neither of them had clocked each other as the young girl tottered on innocently towards my friend who was distracted by his guide book and then with one almighty thud the girl cobbed a load of my friend’s sweaty crotch, only for him to try and rag her off of him like a dog with a bone. Her face was actually stuck to his crotch. I dread to think what would have happened had her parents seen it. I’ve found its best not to tease my friend too much about it though; this whole paedophile thing seems to have touched a nerve.
Sadly jetlag prevails this week, although perhaps next time I will tell you about the plane journey home. It involves fat people and I hate fat people.